A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain

beginning of a war of aggression.

'Either way there is no time for diplomacy, and I doubt they would listen. I personally tried to speak with a member of the Alliance Council earlier today, only to be rebuffed.

'Where words will fail, force must be employed. We will retake Beta Durani, and push this war to Kazomi Seven itself if we have to. General Ryan, how long before we can launch a mission to liberate Beta Durani?'

The general shifted awkwardly in his seat. He was wearing his uniform of course, Sheridan had never seen him in anything else. He seemed to have lost weight recently. The uniform looked particularly ill-fitting, and his skin was acquiring a cadaverous hue. He bore all the signs of little sleep.

'It will not be easy, Mr. President. Even with the De'Molay and the Dark Thunder, our forces are limited. Of our capital ships, we now have only the Morningstar of the veterans of the Minbari War. We lost the Corinthian and the Babylon at Epsilon Three, and now the Marten. The Saint-Germain of course was designed purely as an exploratory vessel, and while she has greater combat capabilities than many of our pre-war ships, she is.... largely untested. And.... there is the matter of her captain.

'To launch such an offensive we will need heavy support from the Shadows, and a good number of Gropo units. A ground battle may be necessary.

'To be honest, Mr. President, I recommend strengthening security around Proxima and our other key colonies. Yes, we have been victorious in recent years, but we have still not fully recovered from the loss of Earth, and I doubt we will do that for many decades. We should....'

'We have skulked here in Proxima for too long!' Clark snapped. 'We will not hide in the dark with our heads buried beneath a pillow. The Alliance has invaded our territory, attacked our ships, and killed our people! We defeated the Minbari, we will defeat them. Anyone who attacks us, we will destroy.

'The official declaration of war with the Alliance was sent to Kazomi Seven some minutes ago.'

Sheridan knew he should be excited. This was what had been inevitable since the alliance with the Shadows. This was what the Shadows had wanted, a war, survival of the fittest, strength through conflict and growth through chaos.

But something in Clark's bearing made him ill-at-ease. And openly attacking Beta Durani! Ryan was right, they were not ready. Not yet. Warfare and chaos, yes, but not to the point of insanity and ruin. Sheridan planned to make humanity the dominant force in the galaxy, and that would not be accomplished with a madman as President.

'What about Sinoval?' asked Ryan suddenly, and Clark looked at him sharply. 'Our previous standing orders were to ready our forces for a full assault on his base, believed to be somewhere in the vicinity of Tarolin Two. I assume those orders are rescinded?'

'They are not. Has the Saint-Germain any accurate star charts of the Tarolin Two area?'

'Not yet. They have reported some sort of conflict there, but details are scarce, and they are having to move secretly and stealthily.'

'Well, if there is a war of some sort there, then we should capitalise on it.' Clark smiled again. 'General Ryan, we will have enough time to go bowling, and destroy the Alliance and Sinoval too.'

Sheridan frowned. A war on two fronts. Even he knew how insane that was. Any minute now Clark was likely to suggest they invade the Centauri or something, although God only knew why anyone would want to.

'Mr. President,' spoke up Pierce Macabee, the recently promoted Minister of Information, known locally as Dr. Spin. 'How would you like this reported on ISN? I was thinking, maybe a posthumous medal for the captain of the Marten? What was his name?'

'Smith,' said Ryan. 'Captain Walker Smith.'

'Smith?' Macabee sighed. 'How very.... uninspired. No wonder I forgot it. Oh well, a posthumous.... Silver Star perhaps?'

'Yes, yes. Do whatever you see fit,' snapped Clark. 'Welles, what word on Delenn?'

Welles looked up, as if he had suddenly realised where he was. 'She is.... currently undergoing the medical tests you ordered, sir,' he said, slowly and cautiously. 'The medical staff seem to think it will take a while. They are trying to be very careful and record as much information as they can.'

'There is no hurry.' Clark smiled. 'We have all the time in the world, after all.

'Yes, we have all the time in the world.'

His smile, thought Sheridan, was like that of someone who has just got the joke that no one else could understand.

* * *

Drugged, sluggish, deafened and half-maddened as she was, Talia still managed to make her way slowly out of the laboratories in which she found herself. Skills of evasion, concealment and disguise that she had been forced to learn over long years of training served to save her life now. Instinct took over as she navigated her way through laboratories, past chambers filled with cryogenic storage units and regular patrols of security guards in black, wearing no insignia.

It was the cryogenic units that concerned her most. The majority of them were occupied, and she knew that every person within them was a telepath. Strangely, not all of them were human. She knew that most of the other races had telepaths — except for the Narns, and Al had been working to see that the telepath gene was reintroduced into their race — and she even had some idea of their relative strengths and the training carried out by the other races.

She had no idea what these alien telepaths were doing here. Were they a part of this network as well?

Such thoughts would have to wait for later. For now, she had to escape from here. She had to find.... Dexter. For the first time since their capture she thought about him. Was he all right? Was he even alive? He was wanted on a charge of murder, she remembered.

Then another thought struck her. He was a telepath, albeit a weak one. Had he been made a part of this network as well? A momentary pang of fear struck her, and that made the voices all the louder. With a considerable effort of will she forced them out, and concentrated on the mission at hand. If Dexter could not be saved, then he would have to be avenged. She had to get to Al. He had to know about this.

After some time, her subconscious skills navigating her through the complex, she came to realise she was underground. That made sense, Proxima was filled with tunnels and caverns, a legacy from its old days as a mining colony. There was room down here to hide.... an army?

It was also much more likely that there would be an unguarded way out here than through the surface. There would be a respectable surface building above this, possibly even the Edgars Building itself. But underground.... there would be a secret way out. All she had to do was find it.

And so Talia, unseen by guards, unnoticed by any alarm, her fogged mind unable properly to realise the strangeness of all this, disappeared deeper and deeper into dark catacombs. Guards passed infrequently, letting her know she was still heading in vaguely the right direction. Some of them even seemed to be looking for her, although their thoughts made it clear they thought it was a fool's errand; surely she could not have got this far underground?

The sound of movement ahead caused her to duck down into the shadows, hiding herself from the guards she had been following at a safe distance. Probably just another patrol.

'Who's there?' said a sharp voice, loudly. It was a member of the patrol she had been surreptitiously tailing. 'Give the pass.... Oh.' He paused. 'I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know it was you. You were expected earlier.'

The reply was much softer and quieter, and as much as Talia strained to hear, only a smattering of words reached her ears. '.... detained.... emergency.... state....'

'Yes, sir, of course. Come this way, we'll provide an escort into the complex.'

Talia pressed herself even harder into the shadows, her eyes following the flickering light source as the patrol turned about and headed back towards her. A man was following them. He was wearing a long black cloak with a hood which hid his face. She tried to reach out and gently skim his mind, but she could not even find it. It was as if a curtain had been drawn across his thoughts, not just shielding them, but hiding them completely.

The voices were still, a terrified whispering passing among them.

The man stopped suddenly, and began looking around. Talia restrained a gasp. It was almost as if he was